Chapter 7
Avice’s handmade card survived.
Barely.
She brought it to me after midnight when the gala had emptied.
The front showed blue crayon fish.
Inside were three figures.
Me.
Julian.
Avice.
Then a fourth smaller figure beside Julian.
I stared.
“Who is this?”
“Baby brother.”
My chest tightened.
She had included him.
The imaginary child everyone claimed she resented.
“What were you going to give Lucille—”
I stopped.
Wrong family.
Too many old matriarchs in my life.
“Aunt Diane?”
Avice frowned.
“Card for you.”
Of course.
The chair had been beside me.
She had been coming to show me.
Not interrupt.
Not beg.
Just give her grandfather a drawing.
“What did Vanessa tell you about the baby?”
Avice thought.
“He gets Daddy.”
That hurt.
“What else?”
“He gets room.”
“What room?”
“My room.”
I went still.
Julian had a large waterfront house.
Avice had the nursery beside his bedroom.
Vanessa had apparently told her the baby would need it.
“Where would you sleep?”
She shrugged.
“Grandma Diane says big girls stay upstairs.”
Diane was not her grandmother.
Children simplify old women.
Still.
I understood.
The upper guest floor.
Far from Julian.
Another small displacement.
One room.
One chair.
One dinner.
Each change individually explainable.
Together they told Avice exactly where adults wanted her to move.
Away.
I looked at the fourth figure in the drawing.
“Did you like baby brother?”
She nodded.
“Wanted teach fish.”
My throat tightened.
Avice had been prepared to love someone who never existed.
That made the lie crueler.
Then she whispered:
“Vanessa says boys stay family.”
I looked at her.
“What do girls do?”
“Go.”
My hand closed around the card.
There.
The ideology underneath the performance.
Girls leave.
Boys continue.
Avice temporary.
Imaginary son permanent.
Diane had not only used a fake pregnancy to elevate Julian.
She had used it to teach my granddaughter that her place in Lombardi diminished simply because she was female.
I kissed the top of Avice’s head.
Then handed the card back.
“Girls stay family too.”
May you like
She looked relieved.
The fact she needed relief told me how much work waited.
